


No Need to Say Goodbye

by natsora



Series: The Lost Daughter [12]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/F, First Aid, Hurt/Comfort, Mass Effect 3, Sad Fluff, Whump, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24162211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsora/pseuds/natsora
Summary: London, Earth. It all comes down to this battle, this fight. Shepard, battered and broken, still stands. Liara sees the woman buried under the Commander, the woman that is tired and weary. She offers Shepard what comforts is available in the end of times, the final of hours.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Liara T'Soni
Series: The Lost Daughter [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1033502
Comments: 18
Kudos: 72





	No Need to Say Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> I think this constitutes as sad fluff. Let me know if the tag applies.
> 
> Commissioned art by [Skyham](https://sky-ham.tumblr.com/). Check out her [art blog](https://skyllianhamster.tumblr.com).

Liara watched, keeping her distance. The troops straightened as the Commander approached. Eyes going wide, even a little starstruck when they realised who was speaking to them. The Commander had a word for everyone, a friendly clap against the shoulder or a mutual exchange of a salute for those more formality inclined. It didn’t matter if they were human or not, the Commander spared no effort. If a whispered exchange or a shared joke could bolster morale, why not? After all, she’d say it was a simple enough thing to do, providing comfort for the action that was to come. 

That was Shepard’s way, it had always been. 

Liara saw what the others didn’t. The brief sag in those shoulders between speaking to one from another, the way her gaze turned inwards for a few seconds, the smile that grew more fixed as time went by. Shepard was exhausted. She’d know. 

Ostensibly, they shared a bed on the Normandy, but sometimes Liara felt she slept alone in it more often than they did together. In the lead up their return to Earth had been nights of planning. Even exhausting both body and mind, Shepard had trouble falling asleep. Worry, anxieties and guilt made getting any kind of rest impossible. Even when Liara managed to coax Shepard to bed, she woke to find Shepard reading yet another casualty report many a time. On top of all that, after persuading Shepard to accept the occasional sleep aid prescribed by Chakwas, just so her body could rest, nightmares intruded. Despite how the easy smirk, that was perched on her lips, made it seemed, Shepard was running on fumes. 

Liara noticed the small tremble in Shepard’s hand as she kneaded her temples. It was a telltale sign a headache was plaguing Shepard. The fight with the Banshee earlier must have done it. Liara could still feel the echo of its scream rattling through her bones. She winced. Shepard had been in close proximity. Liara resisted the urge to close the space between them. Shepard wasn’t done, her circuit incomplete, her duty unfinished. 

When Shepard took her leave from the last person, her gaze turned the sky. Sighing, her breath was a small cloud of condensation stark against the dark night. Silhouetted against a ruined city, helmet tucked under her arm, clad in her black, white and red N7 armour, Shepard cut a lonely figure. Her shoulders bowed by the burden she bore. Liara approached, cut loose from the threads holding her back earlier. 

“Shepard,” Liara’s voice soft, but it carried in the still air. Shuttles were still landing in the distance. The rest of Hammer were slowly trickling in. 

The Commander half turned, her red hair gleamed under the moonlight. Her lips curved upwards, the beginning of a smile that lit up those green eyes of hers. Choking black smoke billowing against a landscape filled with sharp edged concrete and steel, soaked in blood, sweat and tears. A boom shook the air, echoes ricocheted through the city. Shepard tensed, her gaze directed at a far point she couldn’t possibly reach, her hands curled into fists.

Liara touched her arm, fingers laced between Shepard’s. “Come on.”

“Where?” 

She didn’t reply. It took concerted effort to get Shepard to move, but she stumbled along when Liara tug a second time. She caught the slight inhale of breath. Stopping, she levelled her eyes at Shepard. Shepard straightened, tidying away the furrow between her brow. 

“You’re hurt.” It was a statement not the question. 

Shepard winced like a child expecting a scolding. “There’s no hiding things from you.” She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to make light of things. “It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”

It was that same line again. Shepard was fine, she was always fine even when she was bleeding out she’d proclaim she was fine. Liara hated the word with a passion now. Taking a deep breath, she led Shepard to the room EDI had prepared at her request. Shepard followed, knowing better than to argue. In fact, Shepard’s hand held fast to hers, sending a small tingle of biotics tickling Liara’s palm. “Sorry,” it said as she mingled her field with Liara’s.

The Forward Operating Base was nothing but a couple of structures that still stood. Most of them had lost their roofs, but EDI had found them a room, relatively sheltered from the elements, with a door that still locked. The AI was waiting outside. 

“Dr. T’Soni, the supplies are inside as requested,” EDI said. 

“EDI?” Shepard’s muscles were corded again. “Is everything all right? What’s the status on the rest of the Hammer team?”

“The teams are still trickling in, Shepard,” EDI replied. “Everything is fine.”

“Thank you EDI,” Liara offered the AI a smile as she pulled the flimsy wooden door opened and dragged Shepard through. 

“Let me know if anything changes,” Shepard tossed over her shoulder as the door closed. 

“I will,” EDI’s voice drifted through the thin slat of a door. 

Liara turned the lock resolutely. Shepard looked at her, confused. “Why are we here?” She cast her eyes around and found the mattress shoved into a corner, along with a sleeping bag tossed on top of it. The med-kit sat on the dusty, rubble strewn floor. 

“You need to rest,” Liara said. 

“But—”

“Go time is not for another three hours.”

Shepard frowned, her gaze directed at the door. Duty pulled. “There is still work to be done.” 

“What you should do is rest up for the mission later,” Liara pointed out. 

For a moment, Liara wondered if Shepard would be stubborn about it, set her jaw and throw herself into a million of tiny things that no doubt needed doing. The helmet held loose in Shepard’s other hand creaked a little under the intensity of her grip. 

“Please.” She brushed Shepard’s cheek. 

All the fight went out of the Commander. Shepard turned and picked up a fallen shelf, rocking it so that the dust fell. When it was relatively clean, she placed her helmet down on it. Piece by piece Shepard stripped off her armour until she was down to her undersuit. Liara’s eyes widened when she saw a large red patch staining a section just over Shepard’s ribs.

“It’s just looked worse than it really is.”

Liara was angry. She wanted to drag Shepard to the med-unit so that the wound could be seen to, but she also knew Shepard. She’d refused. 

“Just let me put some medi-gel on it.”

Shepard sighed, resigned to her fate. She unzipped her undersuit and worked her arms free so that the suit could be pulled down to her waist, revealing the wound. A long bloody charred grove cut by the path of a bullet adorned one side of Shepard’s ribs. It looked raw, digging a good chunk of Shepard’s skin and flesh away. Liara. hissed at the sight of it. 

Scars littered Shepard’s body. They were a testament of every battle she fought, craved directly into her skin. Puckered round scars of bullets that wrecked havoc with her organs, long white lines of life saving surgeries, red fissures that ran from her jaw down her arms and tracing the curve of her ribs and reaching her legs had cracked her open. This new furrow dug into her skin was just another wound to add to her collection. Another line of her story written out in blood. 

Liara broke out the med-kit and inhaled sharply. There weren’t any medi-gel or numbing agent in there. There was nothing but an antiseptic liquid, sponges, typical tweezers and foceps and rounding out it all with a suture kit. Shepard squeezed her arm through the armour. “It’s fine.”

“But—” Liara stood, ready to get some kind of pain relief, but Shepard grabbed her arm. She shook her head. “Supplies are low, they’re saving supplies for our final push.” Tugging Liara to join her on the worn mattress. “It really is fine.”

Liara studied the wound. The blood at the ragged edges had crusted over. The wound had stopped bleeding, no doubt thanks to Cerberus’ upgrades.

Liara felt the press of time like a hand crushing her chest. It was sand escaping her hands no matter how hard she tried to hold them. The relentlessness of the war choked her awake night after night. Nothing could calm her until Shepard held her, skin against skin, whispering assurances into her ears. 

The final push was before them. All the sand had ran out. Liara might be the Shadow Broker, but she wasn’t all knowing, she couldn’t predict the future, not with all the intel in the galaxy. It came down to the people fighting here in London in a few hours. She didn’t want Shepard to step into the field bearing wounds unattended. 

“All right,” Liara whispered. “I will have to scrub this before I can stitch it up, and there isn’t a local anesthetic in this kit.”

Shepard nodded tightly. “I know, just do what you need to.”

Liara placed her hands gently at the edges of Shepard’s wound, checking if there was any bits of shrapnel or dirt caught in it. Shepard’s abs tensed, but she kept still. Fingers probing and pressing, Liara tried to feel for any rib fractures. Shepard shook her head. 

“Everything feels fine,” she said. 

There was nothing Liara could do but to take Shepard at her word. Pulling on the sterile gloves provided, she reached into the wound with a pair of tweezers and picked every bit of debris she could find with. Shepard gave no sign of pain beyond muscles tensed up so tight it was rock hard. This wasn’t even the worst part. Liara soaked the sponges with antiseptic. Holding the sponge between a pair of forceps, she glanced at Shepard. 

Shepard sighed and turned her head away, hands already preemptively curled into fists. “Ready,” her voice was strained and tight. 

“I’ll be quick,” Liara promised. 

The antiseptic sponge pressed into Shepard’s wound, and Liara scrubbed hard. 

“Fuck!” Shepard cried out, the swear was instantly silenced as she bit down on her hand. There was nothing left but muffled hisses and groans. 

Liara didn’t let up, intent on her task to clean the wound. Blood welled up again, she swapped out for one soiled sponge for a fresh one as she continued cleaning both in and around the wound. By the time she was satisfied, a sheen of sweat coated Shepard’s brow, her face paler than before. 

“Keep going,” Shepard rasped. “You still have to stitch it up.”

Taking a deep breath, Liara picked up the suture kit and prepped the equipment she needed. She had her omni-tool project an overlay over Shepard’s wound so that she knew where the stitches needed to go. Keen eyes memorised the locations before she set needle into skin. In and out, the needle threaded through Shepard’s skin, pulling close parted flesh one prick at a time. Liara worked quickly but precisely. She might not be a doctor, but she wasn’t going to do sub-par work. The last knot went into the row of stitches that dotted along Shepard’s ribs before she applied a sterile dressing over it. Sighing, she dropped the used materials into a bag and sagged down beside Shepard. She was tired. This was actually more nerve-wrecking than combat. 

Shepard winced as she sat up, brushing a shaky hand against the dressing. “Thank you,” she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Liara’s jaw. She rested her forehead against Liara’s and just breathed. A soft inhale as her eyes fluttered shut. 

_Goddess, can this moment last forever?_

It was a prayer that went unheard. No deity was left, they had all burnt along with Thessia. Shepard exhaled and pulled on her undersuit, ready to head out again, but Liara stopped her. “Sleep, we have time for some rest.”

“I can’t, not with everything going on.”

Liara glanced at her omni-tool. “There is still two hours. You can’t take on all those Reapers on your own.”

Shepard’s jaw tightened, she stared at the door over Liara’s shoulder. It rattled as a gust of cold London wind howled its way through the shattered concrete city. Goosebumps woke across Shepard’s skin. 

“A lie down, but not sleep.”

Liara didn’t question Shepard’s acquiescence. It was enough that Shepard agreed at all. She tidied the med-kit and shedded her armour, placing them beside Shepard’s. Turning, she found Shepard had unfurled the sleeping bag. It wasn’t made for two, but if they lay on their sides, they would fit. 

Shepard’s chest pressed against Liara’s back. It wasn’t the skin on skin contact Liara craved, but she’d make do. Shepard pressed a hand against Liara’s chest. As the seconds ticked by, Shepard’s breaths synced up to Liara’s heartbeat. Every inhale and exhale was a treasure. 

_The end._

Liara’s heart skipped a beat, and Shepard’s breath hitched, she was stiff all over again. “Sorry,” Shepard whispered, but her voice broke. 

Working her way within the tight confines of the sleeping bag, Liara turned. Resting her chin on Shepard’s shoulders, taking care not to apply pressure against Shepard’s wound, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Shepard pressed her face against the crook of Liara’s neck. She took a couple of breaths to steady herself before speaking. Even then, every word felt like it was dragged from the depths of the ocean. “What isn’t, Liara?” she retorted. 

The question was so pained, so honest, it sliced Liara’s heart open. Her fingers dug deeper against Shepard’s back, feeling the knobs of her spine. 

“I don’t want to go, I don’t want to fight, but I must,” Shepard went on, the quiver in her voice worsened. “I’m afraid if I don’t, it will all fall apart. Even if I do fight, it might _still_ fall apart. Then, I’ll have nothing, Liara. Everyone dies.”

Shepard shook, but no tears came. As much as Liara wanted Shepard to release her fears, to tear and scream, she knew if Shepard couldn’t allow to let that final barrier between the woman and the Commander down. Liara counted herself lucky that Shepard felt safe enough to unburden herself. 

Here in the last of days, final of hours, all Liara could offer was a soft touch and empty words. It wasn’t enough, nothing was. She pulled away enough so that she could look at Shepard. There she found, shimmering within those brilliant green eyes, a gaze she could lose herself in forever. Darkness encroached upon the edges of Shepard’s gaze, one that had been rapidly gaining ground as the war wore on — an acceptance of what she must give up. 

No! 

The refutation vibrated in Liara’s chest. Shepard deserved better. A soul that possessed the ability to give and give but yet refusing to believe she was worthy of the love Liara had for her, a soul that overflowed with courage and a stubborn will that could fill all the oceans of Thessia didn’t deserve this. 

“Can I take you away?” Liara asked.

Shepard blinked before realisation seeped in. “Yes.” Their eyes locked, Shepard’s green against Liara’s blue, both swimming with a desperate wish for more time. “Please take me away.”

This was something Liara could do, a comfort that she could give. She drew Shepard close, forehead pressed against forehead, their hands laced together. “Embrace eternity,” she whispered, the words never sounded more like a prayer. 

* * *

Flickers of Shepard’s anxieties pulsed like flashes of lightning across the horizon. Echoes of a banshee’s scream rang out, images of that horror danced across the sky, an afterimage that refused to fade. Shepard pressed a hand against her temple, eyes squeezed shut. Liara pulled Shepard against her, a contact that went deeper than skin contact. 

Some aliens might think sexual intercourse was the ultimate form of intimacy and love, and the meld was nothing but mental sex. How wrong they were. There were layers to a meld, with it came different purposes for every single one. The lightest touch imparts information or share memories, a deeper one gives sensations and lighting the neural pathways up with pleasure, a reproductive meld ensured the conception of a new life. What Shepard shared with Liara, the opening of one’s mind to another at this level was intimacy of the highest level, a mingling of souls. It spoke of utter trust and complete faith. 

“Breathe, Shepard,” Liara’s voice a light brush against Shepard’s ear.

Here, Shepard could. Taking a couple of deep shuddering breaths, the flickers stopped. “Take me to your hometown,” Liara said as she released Shepard from her arms. 

There was no sense of motion. One moment they were here, the next there. Bright sun shone down on them, the air muggy and hot. In the distance stood an International Space transit hub, white and shiny against the blue sky. The streets here were strewn with litter and graffiti covered every single conceivable surface, at odds with a gleaming symbol of progress and technological advancement. A large poster loomed behind them, the brand “Nike” was emblazoned across the yellowing curling paper. 

“Burger!” Shepard called. 

A replying bark came instantly as the sound of claws clattering against pock-marked ground raced towards them. A brown mongrel with one floppy ear and one pointed ear charged at Shepard. She knelt down as the dog leapt into her opened arms. Laughter rang out. After the dog gave Shepard a thorough licking, he turned his attention to Liara. She scratched at Burger’s ears as her giggles joined Shepard’s. 

* * *

Liara opened her eyes with reluctance. Her fingers were tangled in Shepard’s hair while Shepard’s finger was tracing patterns into her cheek. “Thank you.” Shepard pressed her lips against Liara’s forehead. Liara savoured it, eyes closing as a warmth filled her, setting her fingers and toes tingling. 

Shepard broke the contact, eyes gentle and relaxed. Liara’s lips parted, the urge to kiss Shepard was strong. “May I?” she asked, never presuming, never pressuring. 

Shepard didn’t reply, instead she captured Liara’s lips with her own. Soft and tentative, starting from the corners of Liara’s lips, one on each side. Breaking away only to return stronger, harder and faster. Her hands reaching towards Liara’s crest, fingers dragging against the pebbled skin, sending shivers down Liara’s spine. All the words Shepard couldn’t say, all the things she didn’t have time to do, she packed in all into a single kiss. Liara twisted, hands cupping Shepard’s face, returning like for like, never wanting to let her go. Desperation fuelled Liara as tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. It lasted an instant, it lasted an eternity.

Then, Shepard’s omni-tool beeped. 

Reality was a sobering slap to their faces. They broke apart and lay panting. Shepard’s forehead pressed against Liara’s shoulder as Liara rested her lips against the side of Shepard’s neck. Hot breath ghosting against chilled skin. Both of them were trying to hold onto this with all their might, but like everything else it was loose sand between fingers. 

With a grunt, Shepard forced herself away. The sleeping bag was unzipped in a single smooth motion, letting the cold air come rushing in. “We should get ready,” she said, her voice low and hush. There was no need to speak louder than a whisper, lest it shatter the odd sort of peace that fell upon on them. 

Instead of putting on armour for themselves, they dressed each other. Hands pressed gently against chests, feeling the steady thud of a heart beating underneath before the chest plate was secured. Fingers tracing the gentle arc of a calf before it was sealed away under ceramic plates. A squeeze of the arm, the lingering touch against a thigh, fingers laced between each other’s before a pair of gloves were pulled on. A touch to sustain, to feed a hunger that wouldn’t be satisfied. Soon Shepard was completely encased in armour, covering up all vulnerabilities, leaving nothing but the Commander in Shepard’s place. Liara’s heart broke. 

“Let’s go.” Shepard’s hand was already reaching towards the door knob, ready to stride through and win this war come what may. 

“Wait,” the word slipped from Liara’s lips before she could hold it back. 

Shepard cocked her head, an eyebrow raised in a question. There in her eyes, Liara found what was left of the woman, Riley Shepard. “I won’t ask you for a promise you can’t make,” she said, stepping forward. “Goddess, it might be my neck in a Banshee’s grip the next time we encounter one.”

“No—.” Shepard started, but she pressed a finger against Shepard’s lips. They were cold unlike before. She preferred to remember the heat of their kiss. 

She swallowed, gathering her words to push them out before her throat clamped up. “This war has taken a lot from this galaxy, from you and from me, but remember, we still have each other. You _have_ me.” 

Shepard stepped closer until there was no space between them. Her green eyes so clear they glowed in the dim light. The flame coloured hair that framed her face was as bright as the fire that burnt within her soul. She glanced at the door, feeling the pull of duty. She couldn’t help herself. That was how Shepard was, ever looking forward, and that was why Liara loved her. With a grunt, Shepard turned her attention back to Liara. It was complete and utter. Shepard was never one to do things by halves. 

A gentle finger traced Liara’s jaw, lighting fire across her senses. Their eyes locked. 

“And you have me,” Shepard whispered, pulling Liara into a hug. Shepard’s arms were so tight around her torso, she could hardly breathe. “You will always have me.” 

The words brushed against her skin, a promise. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


End file.
